Silent Flower "Can You Hear the Screams?"

By Jade Vergus

Detective Marc Cabellera’s sister dies, leaving him in charge of raising his deaf niece and nephew, Maria and Frankie. In order to communicate with them, Marc takes time away from chasing murderers and drug dealers to enroll in a sign language class. There he meets his teacher, Jasmine Finn—a beautiful, sexually frustrated woman who spends her life hiding away from relationships. Marc and Jasmine find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other, but Jasmine won’t let Marc in, keeping her shield of denial firmly in place, hiding her insecurities and fear.
While Marc tries to heal Jasmine’s troubled past, a serial killer is attacking college students, leaving a trail of brutally raped and tortured victims behind. Marc and his partner John scramble to piece together the clues, uncovering disturbing links between the victims, the deaf community, and unusual sexual practices. They discover each victim was in a relationship with the killer, and had received flowers from the murderer—flowers with ominous, hidden messages.
The detectives find themselves in a battle of wits, desperately trying to decode the cryptic connections and messages as more mutilated bodies are discovered. When Jasmine begins to receive flowers from a secret admirer, Marc fears the worse. Is she on the killer’s list? Will they catch the sadistic murderer, or will Jasmine be the next victim?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brighton Publishing LLC
• Release date: May 27, 2013

Jade Vergus

Jade Vergus is an author and a teacher. She has published one book, Silent Flower: Can You Hear The Screams?. As the first of her family to graduate college and earn a graduate degree, she is a zealot for education. She incorporates little known facts, like the bit about smelling a cold on a person in the short story The Patient, into each of her stories. Jade holds various degrees in English and medicine. She is currently working on a degree in Creative Writing. Having grown up as mix of Puerto Rican and African American, Jade countered the stereotypes by allowing her actions to resonate more than her words. You can visit her at her website listed below.

Book preview

Silent Flower

Can You Hear the Screams?

A Novel

by

Jade Vergus

Published

by

Brighton Publishing LLC

501 W. Ray Road

Suite 4

Chandler, AZ 85225

eBook

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright © 2013

ISBN: 978-1-62183-094-8

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Dedication

To Deareice and Stacie,

Thanks for all the input and support you have given to me in this endeavor.

Prologue

The room was dark and filled with crawling shadows. The moonlight shone through the glass ceiling, enlarging the shadowy figures scattered throughout. She looked up, taking comfort in the carpet of the velvety black sky, sprinkled with bright diamond-like stars. Stepping further in, she noticed the walls, also made of glass, showed nothing but darkness outside. She knew they were in the woods somewhere. They had driven for over an hour. She could smell pine and cedar through the open window of the van. She had felt the crunch of leaves and pine needles as she was led blindfolded into the house. It had been a surprise. Her thoughtful lover had promised her a weekend away, just the two of them. They were going somewhere special, private, where they could have all the sexual fun they wanted, and no one would interrupt them. She’d been wet from the moment the suggestion had been made three days ago.

She felt lucky that she could spare the time. Between work and school she barely had time to spend with her lover. And, oh, what a lover… She had been introduced to things beyond her wildest imagination. She never knew her body could experience that much pleasure until her lover taught her.

She looked over her shoulder at the shadowy figure standing in the doorway behind her. She had wanted to get right down to the sex as soon as they walked into the building. Her lover had forestalled her, wanting to show her something very special. She had been led to this building adjacent to the house. When the door opened, she was assaulted by an overwhelming mix of smells. The heady perfume of flowers enveloped her, filling her senses. She detected apple, honeysuckle, cinnamon, magnolia, peppermint, carnation, roses, and many more. The smells intertwined to the point she couldn’t distinguish one from the other.

She took another step further into the building; lights snapped on automatically. Instantly, the darkness outside was banished. The windows she once thought were clear glass were actually an opaque white, forming a protective barrier between the darkness outside and the light inside.

Smart glass, the shadowy figure informed her. Changes color depending on the amount of light hitting the glass.

She nodded, and then turned to study her illuminated surroundings. Everywhere she looked she saw flowers; all different kinds—pink, blue, purple, white, multicolored. A sea of hues flowing over every surface, spilling from the rafters like colorful waterfalls. The tinkle of water flowing from the fountain in the middle of the room, and the slight breeze gently ruffling the petals lent the illusion of being in a tropical paradise.

This is beautiful, she praised as she walked up one aisle and down another, admiring all the colors and scents. It must have taken a long time to do this.

A labor of love, came the whispered response. These are my babies. I nurture them, and I give them love and tenderness. Everything needed to grow strong and beautiful.

What will you do with them when they bloom?

Different things. The shadow shrugged indifferently.

She stopped in front of a particular yellow flower. It had four wide petals with a yellow cup of smaller petals in the middle. Right next to it sat a green bush with ruffled leaves. These are the ones you gave me when you picked me up.

The figure walked up behind her. Strong arms encircled her waist pulling her back against an equally strong body.

That, the voice whispered as a hand pointed to the yellow flower, is celandine. It means, ‘joys to come.’

A whisper of breath flowed across her neck right before a sharp bite, followed by the cool laving of a tongue. A shiver ran through her. She would have melted into a puddle right then and there if not for the strong hands anchoring her.

The other, the voice continued as the hand pointed to the green bush, is coriander. It means lust.

The last word was said with a growl as she was turned to face her lover. Her mouth was assaulted. The heat between them overpowered the warmth of the greenhouse.

I need you now.

Yes, was her answering plea. Let’s go inside.

No, came the harsh response. Here. Now. She was pulled deeper into the jungle of flowers. Her head swam; whether from the perfume of the flowers, or the arousal pounding in her blood, she didn’t know. All she knew was she wanted this as much as her lover did.

They fell on the ground. Clothes were torn in their haste to get to skin. Mouths devoured, hands ravished. Sweat coated their heated skin. Pleasure enraptured them. They indulged in the pleasure of the flesh, reaching heights never dreamed of. The intoxicating aroma of the flowers added to their primal mating. Never before had she felt like this. It was pleasure. It was pain. She was teased and tortured. When she was finally allowed release, it crashed over her, saturating every pore, draining every last bit of strength from her, leaving her in utter darkness.

When she opened her eyes again, she realized she was no longer in the greenhouse. She was in a room. She was lying on a table, naked. Her arms and legs were strapped down. She turned her head looking first to one side, then the other. A figure moved from the shadows at her feet.

Ahhhh… you’re awake, finally. The voice was not that of her lover. It was rough and harsh, menacing. Now the real fun can begin. The figure moved closer. A whip held in one hand, slapped the other hand. Her mouth moved, trying to form words. No sounds came. Her head whipped from side to side. The figure sneered. Looking for your lover? I’m afraid it’s just you and me. But don’t worry. We’ll have loads of fun. Trust me.

Pure terror engulfed her as the figure reached her side. The whip was lifted. No! she yelled as it descended. Pain shot through her. Again and again the whip kissed her body and then retreated. She cried with each lash, longing for a reprieve, but none came. Finally, when she could stand no more, something pierced the opening between her legs. If not for the straps holding her down, she would have shot off the table.

Her screams ripped the air as she was violated over and over again, until she was pushed to the pinnacle—the most intense orgasm she had ever felt ripped through her. The scream bubbled all the way up from her toes and erupted out of her. The violation did not stop. Instead, it moved to her rear. The breach was so violent, so painful. The scream of ecstasy turned into a scream of pain. Tears sprang to her eyes as she was pummeled over and over again.

A new intrusion invaded her as something was inserted into her. The double penetration filled her, tore through her. There was so much pain. There was so much pleasure. She didn’t know which to feel. She just knew she couldn’t take much more. It was then another orgasm exploded through her. The scream broke her voice, stole her breath. But it didn’t stop. One after another flowed through her until she thought her body would burn up from all the pleasure. Her body was one big mass of pain and pleasure, and she never wanted it to end.

This is only the beginning, the whispered promise broke through the fog of pleasure, right before those strong hands closed around her throat and squeezed.

Chapter One

He looked around anxiously. It had been over a decade since he’d been in a classroom. When he left, he had sworn he would never return. Classrooms always made him nervous; they reminded him of high school and Mrs. Finklemeyer. She was the world’s ugliest, most horrible teacher alive. She had made him hate learning and school. The day he got his diploma, he walked out the door, and never looked back. So why was he, Detective Marc Cabellera, here? Simple. Because of Maria and Frankie. He looked down at the twins standing next to him. His heart swelled with emotion. There could be no better reason to be here in this classroom. Giving them a reassuring smile, he found three seats in the middle of the room and sat down.

When he was seated and the children quietly drawing, he looked at the other students around him. At least he wasn’t the oldest student here. That was a relief. An advantage of taking a college night course, he thought. You aren’t stuck with anxious freshmen and know-it-all upper classmen.

As Marc studied the people around him, a tall, lanky brunette entered the room. She walked up front and put the brown leather briefcase she had been carrying on the desk. One of the younger students got up from her seat and joined the woman in the front. Marc watched as they began talking. It was a language he had seen many times, but watching now as these two women conversed without words truly amazed him. The younger woman said something which made the older woman laugh. It wasn’t the kind of laugh he had heard from others who spoke with their hands. It was a high-pitched, husky sound that ended in a little snort.

A man walked in the room at that moment and began conversing with the women. After a few minutes of signing to each other, the older woman gestured something to the younger woman. The younger woman turned to the class and said, Would you please put your chairs in a circle?

The class obeyed and began moving chairs. Marc arranged his seat so he was between the two children.

After everything was arranged, the older woman wrote a name on the board, Jasmine Finn. She pointed to the name, then to herself—indicating that it was her name. Then, she began to sign. First she pointed to herself. She placed the first two fingers of her right hand on the side of the first two fingers of her left hand. After that, her right hand began making some shapes Marc could only assume were letters.

She repeated this action twice. Then, she began picking people out of the class, making them come up and write their name. She spotted Maria, who had become enraptured by the teacher. The woman looked at Maria questioningly. Maria began signing to her. For a few minutes the two females signed to each other. Maria turned to Marc and gestured to him to go up and write his name on the board. While Marc followed her order, Maria got Frankie’s attention and began signing to him.

For the next hour the class ran in much the same function. The teacher signed something, and the class imitated. They went through the entire alphabet at least ten times, and learned to sign My name is… and spelled their names. After most of the students had gotten that down pat, the younger woman came up and said, There will be a fifteen minute break. At this everyone got up, walked out of the classroom, and began talking.

Maria got up and ran to the teacher, signing to her excitedly. Frankie and Marc followed at a much slower pace. The teacher turned to Frankie and began talking with him, too. Marc turned to the younger woman who was introduced as Denise, the teaching assistant, TA. She looked to be in her early twenties, with shoulder length caramel-colored hair surrounding a triangular face. Her violet, almond-shaped eyes and upturned nose topped a small, flat mouth.

What are they saying? Marc asked.

Denise, who had been watching, intrigued, answered, Maria is explaining why you three are in this class. She’s telling Jasmine about her parents’ death, and your inheritance of two deaf children.

Just then, Frankie turned to Marc, signed and said, Uncle Marc, have to go bathroom. And thirsty. Can we get soda?

Marc signed one of the few words he knew, Yes. He gestured to Maria, indicating Frankie tell her. Frankie waved his hand in front of her face, and explained the situation.

Maria nodded, and turning to Marc, signed and said, Me too. Want soda, too. Marc nodded and held his hand out for her to take. She signed something quickly to the teacher, and took Marc’s hand as she watched the reply.

Marc looked down at the child in amazement. In the weeks she had been with him, she hadn’t talked as much as she had in the past five minutes. He had realized the great distant between them because of the language barrier, but had never imagined the profound affect the lack of communication had. For the rest of the night, Marc paid close attention to everything going on in class. He absorbed every sign made by Jasmine, Denise, and Teddy—the other TA.

Throughout the class, Maria and Frankie conversed about what Maria had found out about Jasmine. After class, both children ran up to her and began signing. The other students looked at them in amazement, and then went to question the TAs. Marc stood in the background, watching the three people in the front of the room.

The twins both had dark, curly hair that framed their cherub round faces, with button noses, and cupid’s bow mouths. Both had the short, slightly lean stature of eight-year-olds who were slowly losing the last of their baby fat. That’s where the similarities ended. Where Maria’s hair fell down to her shoulders, Frankie’s was short and just beginning to curl around his ears. Maria’s eyes were a deep, emerald green. Frankie’s were a clear, azure blue.

The woman, who resembled no teacher Marc had ever had before, looked to be in her early thirties. She had piercing-green cat eyes which were only accentuated by her shoulder length, mahogany-colored hair surrounding an oval face. The button nose and cupid’s bow mouth gave her an air of innocence, while the athletic build spoke of pure sin. Marc felt desire rush through his body as images of what he could do to that body popped into his head. He laughed to himself. His hormones would pick now, the worst possible time, and this woman, his teacher, to decide to finally wake up. Not much he could do about it, he mused to himself. He was just glad his hormones still worked. It had been so long since he responded to any woman, he’d been afraid he was becoming a monk.

When the last student and TA had left, Marc gathered the children’s belonging and walked to the front of the room. Frankie turned to him, signing and saying, Uncle Marc, can we go to Pizza Hut for dinner, please?

Maria jumped in with, And can Jasmine join us?

Marc sighed deeply. This was one of the reasons he was taking these classes. How would he tell an eight-year-old deaf child he didn’t want to take this woman out to dinner with them because he wouldn’t be able to talk to her? It was difficult enough trying to talk to them.

When he was about to say, Yes, Jasmine tapped Maria on the shoulder and signed something to her. Maria signed back. Frankie joined in. After a minute or so, both children said, Please? while rubbing their open palm on their chests.

Jasmine gave Marc a defeated look. Maria turned to him and explained, Jasmine says you don’t want her to join us because you’ll feel left out. Is that true?

Before he could answer, Frankie jumped in with, You won’t be left out, Uncle Marc. Jasmine can hear and speak just like you. So you and Jasmine can talk, and she’ll translate for us. At this comment, Maria smacked Frankie on the back. Ow, he cried, and then signed something. Maria replied. Frankie turned to Jasmine, placed his right fist on his chest and rubbed.

Jasmine replied and looked up into Marc’s confused face. He was a very handsome man with dark, curly hair falling over a wide forehead. His golden eyes, aquiline nose, and square jaw, served to emphasize his oblong face. The blue dress shirt and navy slacks did little to hide his six-two, well-muscled frame.

Yes, I can hear and talk, she began. I had asked Maria and Frankie not to say anything because I didn’t want anyone in the class to know. If they knew, they would start asking me to verbalize, and they would never learn.

I understand, Marc replied. I won’t tell anyone else.

Thank you.

Annoyed at being excluded from the conversation, Maria whined, Uncle Marc, hungry.

Me, too, Frankie piped in. Can we go now?

Marc signed, Yes, turned to Jasmine and said, You’re welcome to come along if you don’t have any other plans. It would mean a lot to the kids. And it would help me out a lot in understanding what they want on their pizza.

Signing as she spoke as to not exclude the children, she replied, I would love to join you for pizza.

The children jumped for joy.

***

I thought deaf kids were quieter than hearing kids, John complained good-naturedly as he took a sip of the beer Marc handed him. John O’Farrell had been Marc’s friend and partner for the last decade. He was just shy of six feet, with straight ginger hair and blue eyes. His chiseled chin and high cheekbones lent an angular appearance to his face. Thanks to regular workouts with Marc in the precinct’s gym, he was fit and trim and avoided letting himself go now that he was a married man.

Today he was helping Marc move into a four-bedroom house Marc had been lucky to find for rent—close enough to the kids’ school, and in a relatively safe neighborhood. It was a much better fit than the one-bedroom apartment he had been residing in.

Pure myth, my friend, Marc responded, raising his own beer to his lips. Plus remember, these two used to be able to hear. This, he gestured his beer bottle in the direction of the noise the twins were making, screaming and chasing each other as they investigated their new house, is how they were before they lost their hearing. It’s not going to disappear because they can no longer hear. It just gets louder.

So how much more leave you got before you’re back to pounding the pavement with me?

Sorry, you’re stuck with Charlie for another two weeks. I still have to paint this place, unpack, and find a decent babysitter—preferably one who can sign—before I can even think about returning to work.

Two weeks? Man, I’m going to have to reprogram you all over again, aren’t I?

The two men laughed at the joke as the two kids came barreling into the room and stopped in front of their uncle.

Frankie’s pointer finger touched his chin, and then moved from his chin down to his collarbone. With the same hand, he curled in the three middle fingers, leaving his thumb and pinky extended. He moved his hand back and forth so the two extended fingers pointed at him and his sister. Marc signed the letters O, and K, then headed to the fridge for some juice boxes. Once they had their juices, the children ran back out of the room.

What was that about? John asked.

You know I signed up for that sign language class at the college, right?

Yeah.

Well, Jasmine… I mean Miss Finn, and I decided I would learn faster if the children didn’t speak what they signed, unless I was totally lost. Sort of like living in France, to learn French, Marc explained.

Who’s Jasmine? John inquired.

My teacher.

You call your teacher by her first name? John teased, wiggling his ginger eyebrows.

She asked me to when we went for pizza.

You went out to dinner with your teacher?!

And the kids. They asked her to join us. You don’t know how much of an adjustment this is to them. The minute Maria saw Jasmine sign her hands went into a flurry of motion and haven’t stopped since.

And what flurry of motion did you experience, hmmmmm?

John burst out laughing as Marc said, Oh, grow up!

So, what’s she like?

Marc described her as he had been taught in the academy; straight description, no frills.

You know, even though you gave that description like a cop, I can still tell you found her very attractive. The question is—are you going to do anything about it?

What’s this sudden interest in my personal life? Ever since you got married, you’ve been harping on me to get a life, Marc pointed out.

That’s because I’m an old married man now, and I have to live vicariously through my friends. Especially now that Cyndy’s pregnant and no longer in the mood for sex or anything, John groaned.

I thought that only lasts through the first trimester, until the morning sickness goes away.

That’s what the doc said. But she’s four months, and still can’t keep her breakfast down. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, John whined.

Marc laughed at his friend as he swallowed the last of his beer, and replied, You’ll be fine. Now, let’s finish unloading so you can get back to that beautiful wife of yours.

***

Why did it have to be such a gorgeous day outside when he had so much work to do? Marc thought as he measured the shelf he was putting up in the garage. The sun was shining brightly in a cloudless sky, keeping the temperature somewhere in the sixties. There was just a hint of a breeze rustling the multicolored leaves clinging to the tree branches. Most had given up and drifted to the front lawn. He would need to rake those up sometime soon.

He looked enviously out at the twins running around, chasing each other through the leaves, laughing, just being kids. Ever since he picked them up from Australia two weeks ago, he wondered if he would ever hear that sound again. They were so young and yet had been through so much already. Between losing their hearing, due to meningitis three years ago and the death of their parents, they’d had as much sorrow as pain. Marc shared their pain. Their mother had been his twin sister. She had moved to Australia ten years ago when she had met and married her husband, an Australian farmer. When the two were killed in a plane crash, it had been up to Marc to fly to Australia and handle the estates, seeing as his brother-in-law had no family. It had been a long, hard two weeks. He didn’t think the kids would ever be the same.

Looking at them now, he could tell, they were beginning to heal. Since they were, they should be helping him, but until he got the shelves cut, he didn’t want them anywhere near him. Placing the protective glasses over his eyes, and the wood on the saw horses, he picked up the saw and began cutting.

It was the bark of the dog that first got his attention. He looked up and saw the kids running toward the whitewashed picket fence—which needed painting—and the angel standing there. She was wearing a white T-shirt, and black, stretchy, Lycra pants, both of which emphasized her well-toned figure, and running shoes. The grey sweatshirt wrapped around her small waist completed the ensemble. From his position, he could see the kids’ excitement at the golden shepherd leashed to the woman who haunted his dreams lately. He forced himself to finish cutting the last shelf before he joined the group at the fence.

Hello, he signed.

She reciprocated, and then started flashing her hands in more signs. He tried to follow her hands, but got lost. His facial expressions gave him away because she laughed that slightly husky laugh of hers.

She signed more slowly, You live here? I never knew that. I walk Sandy this way almost every day, and have never seen you around. When did you move in?

Marc couldn’t remember the sign, so he just said, Yesterday. Then signed, Sorry, I don’t know that sign yet.

Jasmine curled her hand so her thumb and pinky still pointed out, placed her thumb on her chin, and then moved her hand back toward her ear with the pinky pointed away from her face. She said the word as she signed it. Marc repeated the sign. He would have said more, but Maria waved for his attention and began her flurry of hand movements again. Marc raised both hands with his palms facing him and wiggled his fingers, Wait. Then he placed one palm over the opposite wrist and pulled his hand up his arm to the elbow. Slow.

Maria gave the exasperated sigh of an eight-year-old and turned to Jasmine. Taking pity on Marc, Frankie began interpreting. She says the dog is cute, and wants one just like it. She wants to know if we can get a dog, and promises to take care of it. Yeah, right, Frankie said aloud as he signed. Maria caught the last part, and hit him on his back. Hey.

Marc brought one hand down in a chopping motion against the other palm. Stop, he ordered. Then, curling his ring finger and pinkie, he snapped the first two fingers of his right hand together with his thumb. No. Since that was the extent of his vocabulary when it came to dogs, he spoke the rest. We just moved into this house. We’re not unpacked or settled. We just can’t handle a dog right now.

Maria looked confused and hurt. Not sure she understood, Marc turned to Jasmine and asked, Will you tell her what I said?

He watched as Jasmine signed and spoke everything he had just said. She ended with, I live two blocks that way, she pointed west. You’re welcome to come by any time I’m home and play with Sandy. She loves the attention, and I don’t seem to have as much time as I’d like to play with her.

Maria turned and started signing and begging out loud, Can we go, please?

Marc shook his head and signed, Not today. We have to… he pointed toward the garage because he didn’t know how to sign the rest, put up shelves, and finish unpacking, he finished.

I should go then, and let you get back to work, Jasmine said.

Wait a minute, Marc said. Have you lived around here long?

For the past five years.

So you know the neighborhood, and the people in it?

Yes.

Would you happen to know anyone who babysits? I only have another two weeks off before I have to go back to work, and I’d like to find someone soon.

I don’t need a babysitter, Frankie fumed. I’m not a baby!

Me either, Maria chimed in.

Marc stared at them. They were better at reading lips than he thought. He had stopped signing after his first question to Jasmine, and she had followed suit, understanding that the conversation was between the two of them.

I may have someone in mind, Jasmine replied.

Noooo! the kids whined.

Marc signed, Stop, and was met with petulant faces. He turned to Jasmine and asked, Can we talk later?

Do you have paper and pen? You can call me later, she replied.

Inside, he answered gesturing her into the yard. When she hesitated and looked down at Sandy, he assured her, It’s fine.

She entered the yard, the dog on her heels, and closed the gate behind her. You two stay in the yard with the… Marc signed as he spoke, pausing to look at Jasmine for the sign for dog.

Jasmine showed him the sign, then looking at her dog, signed and said, Stay! before following Marc into the house.

Jasmine tried not to stare at the man leading the way through the hallway crowded with boxes. The way the cotton and denim clung to his body should be considered illegal. Stop it, she told herself. She shouldn’t be thinking things like that. She couldn’t afford to be attracted to this man, to any man. Easier said than done, she mused to herself. Ever since she had gone out to dinner with him and his family the other night, he seemed never to be too far from her thoughts. All three of them, actually. She figured it was mostly because she felt sorry for the kids, losing their parents and having to move to a new place. She knew that wasn’t really true; the kids were always an afterthought following the man.

Watch yourself, Marc warned as he maneuvered around boxes on his way to the kitchen. He headed straight to the refrigerator where a pad of paper and pen were stuck to the door. Pulling them down, he handed